Young and Beautiful
by Hawley
Summary: Re-posting this on the account I can ACTUALLY remember a password to. It's 1990, and Stuart Pot is an 12 year old boy sent away from Crawley to an all boys boarding school - here he meets an interesting 20 year old and an even more interesting room-mate that make his life very confusing. Imagine 2D was sent to boarding school and that Murdoc is only 3 years older than him!
1. Chapter 1

Mum was quiet; she just looked down at the floor and waited for the discussion to start. It was Dad that started.

"We've given you too many chances, mate. I've found somewhere nice..." He nervously took off his steamed up glasses and gave them a polish on his bottle green shirt.

Mum joined: "It's in the country."

"You like sheep... don't you?"

I took a deep breathe and tried to keep my voice stable.

"When you say country, where abouts do you mean? Because, we're pretty near the countryside now-"

"You're not staying in Crawley, Stuart."

There were a few moments of silence as I processed what I already knew was to be – hearing the words was different from just knowing. For a brief moment I thought I could convince them, make them see the reason I did what I did.

"Mum, Dad, please. Jus' listen. I know most of the things I done are bad – everything I ever done is bad, but ..."

They waited, mum looked up and I swear I saw something in her eyes, some hope that I could explain why I behaved this way. But how could I? I don't even know the reason I do what I do. When silence ensued, Mum let out a signature sigh I'd heard too often and Dad slumped back into the faded arm chair.

"The boarding school - it's near the Forest of Dean, Stu." When I looked at him blankly he elaborated.

"Gloucestershire … as in … near Wales."

(Knights in White Satin – Moody Blues)

We took the train to London, walked to Paddington station and then took another train to Gloucester. Watching the scenery go by, I noticed the sky getting greyer, the weather wetter and the landscape more hilly – even the sheep started to look more depressed. Me and Dad didn't talk much on the way there (Mum decided not to come) but I kept catching him looking at me, the pity in his eyes magnified by the glasses. When he saw me looking back, his gaze was quickly averted.

So seeing as conversation wasn't on the agenda, I settled on passing the time in exploration – not that there's many places to explore on a train, but walking up and down the carriages and people watching proved entertaining. I listed the interesting ones I saw:

1) A teenage girl wearing and entire outfit made of Cliff Richard merchandise.

2) A young mother with triplets, sleeping as her offspring plaited her hair and "did her make-up."

3) Two angry men, blonde and brunette, arguing over which Scandinavian country, Norway or Sweden, topped the other. It looked to be getting violent.

4) A -

I didn't know how to proceed on the next person. His black hair was spiked into a short Mohawk, hair that once had been part of a fringe, but being out of his face exposed a pair of sickly green eyes … not that the green of his eyes was what made me stare. It was the green of his skin. He looked ill.

"Han, that freaky little kid's staring at ya." Reported "Han's" mate.

He gave a cruel laugh, but when he looked at me, his expression turned stonily serious, like he'd seen a dead thing.

"Look at you." He half whispered.

He went to get up but before he or his companions could say/do anything else, I ran down the carriages and hid in the toilet until it was nearly time to get off the train.

When I felt the machine halt, I scurried back to Dad just in time to get off. As we joined the orderly line of departing West Country folk, I found him looking at me again, but this time stayed like that even when I returned the gaze.

"Looks like we're here, mate."

What he meant was "Goodbye. I'm sorry. You're not coming back."

(Silence except for rainfall)

Being the start of the school year and a lovely rainy September morning, hundreds of boys ages 11 to 16 made a mad dash into the large wooden doors of the ageing, crumbled building. It was on top of a hill that shallowly sloped down for about a mile to a small village bellow, this journey being marked by a narrow path winding in and out of the ancient oaks and conifers. The way it over looked the land reminded me of a sinister cult Church watching the little people scurry around in a God-fearing way. The thick mist added further to the Silent Hill feel. The grounds stretched far behind the school: cricket fields, gardens, woods for (I suspected) hunting and other such activities – at the moment they were all grey and soaked like the rest of the landscape.

When I finally managed to battle my way into the building (without the presence of my father, I may add, who left me at the village after an awkwardly silent drive from Gloucester) I was met by a quiet murmur of conversation then, as people started to notice me, more than a few stares. The hall itself was huge, stone tiled, grey, dauntingly high ceiling – I felt like any moment now a preacher was going to jump onto a hidden pulpit to fill me with shame. But as I looked towards the front of the hall, someone very similar looking to a preacher slowly made his way onto the school assembly stage (complete with dramatic maroon curtains) and turned to face us. His expression looked … disapproving.

Everyone went silent.

The knarled man scanned his audience with the faded blue eyes of an older man than he looked, managed to miss me, and began to speak.

"Well. You're the new year sevens of Dreadmoor Boys School, then?" Should we answer? Better not. Everyone else must've had the same idea because they also remained silent.

"That's 'YES HEADMASTER!" He yelled at the quivering souls.

"Yes headmaster!" Came the terrified reply, one that made it's way past my lips as well.

"Can't say I'm impressed. A bunch of weak, snivelling children, you lot. But then, I'm never impressed – that's my job, to MAKE you impressive. And anyone who fails this will suffer the consequences. You'll learn soon enough how we do things around here. But right now I have more important things to do than tell you the ins and outs so I've randomly assigned you all an older student for that. You'll be sharing a room with them."

A terrified gasp came from a few of the students at the prospect of being in the presence of an older pupil – some appeared to be crossing their fingers and praying to get their older brother; some appeared to be doing the opposite.

He gave an evil cackle, "Oo, scary! You'd better be scared, I've given each one permission to disipline you justly should you let down your school – and I hear they can be very inventive."

A disgustingly cruel smile spread across his face.

"Receive your room numbers and 'welcome pack,'" somehow the word 'welcome' didn't sound right coming from him, "from the desks at the rear of the hall. Good luck." He turned without the tiniest hint of care on his face and walked away.

(Vaka – Sigur Ros)

After receiving the number of my room, nervously easing it open, and finding my room-mate absent, I lay down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. The rain had become a torrent outside and I was reminded of old geography lessons stating it rained a lot more in the West Country than the east. So far, this side of England seemed to be living up to it's reputation. The sudden absence of things to think about, like packing or train tickets caused my mind to keep replaying what happened on my last night in Crawley over and over again – the thing that happened before I had "the talk" and was sent away. I was in the co-op car park, sitting on the wall. I wasn't doing anything in particular, but I remember being sad – there's no other way to describe it, just terribly, unimaginably sad.

 _Stuart gazed across the car park and noticed a trolley filled with old newspaper the shop hadn't been able to sell. With a blank expression, he walked over to it and climbed in. Slowly, a lighter was removed from his pocket and after a few failed attempts, a flame was produced. He closed his eyes and brought the fire down to the paper, which instantly caught light. A chain reaction of sparks caused the whole trolley to flame up, sizzling the skin of the child sitting inside. Stuart instantly screamed as instinct overtook emotion and in his haste to escape tipped the structure over and rolled out onto the floor. Unfortunately he had fallen onto a half empty vodka bottle which smashed and coated him in a reasonable dosing of flammable liquid. In a flash second he was drenched and cold – a man had seen what was happening and tipped three full milk containers over him. The police came, and an ambulance – nobody had seen the directness of the arson and the police dismissed it a "kid playing with matches." It was similar at A &E, no serious burn damage, everything had been over with too fast. It felt like a lifetime to him. His parents were called, _

_they went home and … well, you know the rest. He caused ANOTHER fire._

A raging heat began to run through my body and my heart quickened. I was on fire, I could feel it. Suddenly, I jumped off the bed, near tore the door off it's hinges and ran as quickly as I could down flights of stairs and through corridors to the back doors leading into the school grounds. The rain soaked into my clothes almost strait away, adding a tiring weight to my body – but I couldn't care. I was so cold, but felt as though my skin must be burning, could imagine the flames licking at my body and smoke filling my lungs. I continued to run, further into the fields not designated for any particular sport, and towards the woods, as I did so half thinking I heard a large slamming noise behind me. That just made me run faster until I reached the stile leading into the forest, cleared it in a long legged leap, and made a hard sprint into the darkness. The heavy rain turned to hail and began to pelt the skin on the back of my neck through the canopy. The dark, twisting nature of the forest was so frightening it was causing me to imagine frantic footfalls behind me.

The further I ran, the sicker I became until my head span and my lungs ceased to work.

Just as I fell to the ground I heard the running footsteps loudly as the shadowy figure approached and half caught me. And then the darkness took me over completely and everything was black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Second chapter! Thank you so much for the person who reviewed and said they liked the style of writing it made me smile and you're a lovely person! I will definitely carry on but the regularity of updates may vary due to college...**

 **(West Ryder Silver Bullet - Kasabian)**

I felt thick, like my senses had been dulled in ice and couldn't break through the numbness. Slowly, I began to open my blurry eyes and look around the room I'd woken up in. It was day. The flecks of dust danced on the ray of light shining through the sloppily closed curtains that illuminated a large crack in the skirting board... maybe there was mice. I'd like that. The dirty patterned wall paper betrayed the location: my new dorm room. Sat on the bed opposite, reading a book, I hazily began to make out a figure that caused me to sit bolt upright with fear – black hair, green skin: the boy on the train.

My sudden jolt made him turn to face me and quickly stride over to my bed. Fear gripped me, rendering my legs and all other extremities useless.

"Decided teh grace us with ya presence then, eh?" A heavy cockney accent purred out at me in a way that sounded careless yet precise at the same time. That's when my vision started to come back into focus (I've never had great eyes) causing a deep sigh of relief when I realised the boy looming over me wasn't the same person I'd seen on the train. His jet hair fell floppily over his forehead and had a distinct deepness in colour, like the way a magpies feathers change to purple and blue in the light. Maybe his did that? I couldn't tell in the dimness, but I _could_ see his skin wasn't sickly green, more a light grey ash colour that, for some reason, caused his dark coffee brown eyes to stand out intensely. I just then realised from his slightly creeped out expression I'd been staring for a while - his eyebrows disappeared above his fringe and he'd leant back slightly.

"My... presence?" Come to think of it I had no idea why I was in bed. The boy looked me in the eye for a second then gave a disbelieving chuckle.

"Yeh, mate – just woke up. Christ, they warned me ya'd be slow but catch UP, son!" With this last exclamation he slapped me gently on the back of the head and jumped back onto his bed where he proceeded to read the large book from earlier.

"Ow." I quietly murmured whilst rubbing the back of my head, but it didn't really hurt.

This is when I decided to properly take in my surroundings: the curtains had black out material behind them in order to fight off as much daylight as possible, but all the light bulbs in the room had been smashed, their remains still screwed into the various lamps dotted around. Instead, large, malformed candles of black, white and red were stuck with their own drippings onto the posts of the bed and side tables – what kind of person was I living with? And how had I not noticed the weirdness of the room earlier?

I glanced over at said person, then away. Something about him made me scared – made me think of fire. My eyes flicked onto the wood of his bed where strange symbols and scratches had been carved with a knife: inverted crosses and pentagrams, little stick people in odd positions of what looked to be torture. One was being burned. I quickly looked away. What was it about this room that made me unable to look at things for more than a few seconds...

His book. It was big and red and evil with a rams skull screaming on the front.

I noticed him looking directly at me.

"Caught up yet, face ache?"

"I don't fink so."

He gave an enormous sigh and rolled his eyes in effort.

"Weeell, to cut an extremely tedious story short, ya ran off in ta the woods like a lune an' I felt it my duty as a room-mate to go after you. Then ya fainted. Like a bird." I was baffled.

"Shit, yeh, no I remember. Why was that..." I didn't have the brain power to remember, so I carried on.

"Sorry 'bout all that but, how'd ya know I was ya room-mate?" To this, he gave a clever smile and turned back to his book in a way that said 'I'm not ignoring you, but I think I can manage multi-tasking.'

"I was given a brief description yesterday and ya not exactly a crowd fitter, darling." I honed in on a strand of hair falling over my eyes and realised.

"'Spose not..."

"Looked like a bloody blue siren, mate. If you were going for incognito, I'd say ya failed." He smiled and in a strange moment I realised I didn't know his name.

"Name." I blurted out. Thoughts had a terrible way of becoming words sometimes.

"Ya what?"

"Name – your name. I don't know your name."

"Do you _want_ to know my name?" He faced me and looked slightly serious, a bit too much if i'm honest. There was something definitely strange about this teenager, but I decided to go with it.

"Yes. Please."

He held his gaze for far too long then turned away. He looked... sad?

"Murdoc."

"Right. Nice teh meet you, Murdoc."

"Yeh."

 **(Nothing – Earthlings?)**

For the rest of the day I did... nothing.

After a lengthy session of Murdoc reading his book and me sneaking curious glances at him, (I really want to see what his hair looks like in the daylight) he finally got up, pulled on some scuffed up Docs and without looking my way muttered:

"I'm off." It was a Saturday – I doubt he had lessons.

Without him there, I arose and began to unpack the few things I deemed worthy to save from home: clothes, some CD's, pens and pencils to do drawing if I felt like it – and a rubber, cause I wasn't any good.

There were only two things I brought that actually had some meaning to me. One was a book mum used to read me when I was younger, 'The Rainbow Fish.' When I was little, she'd always bring me to work with her at the hospital, which was cool, mostly I just played in the reception area under the watchful but kind eye of Julie, the receptionist – but the best bit of the day was when Mum took her lunch break and would read to me. We'd sit on the dark green sofa in the staff room, her still in lilac scrubs, smelling of clinical soap, and read that book every day.

I'd taken it because, after she had to take some time off work, she got weird. She might burn it – she sometimes did thing like that now. And they sent ME away.

My other possession was a DVD of a Swedish film, 'Let The Right One In,' my favourite of all time. The way Oskar and Eli protect each other knowing the complications of their actions, running away together and being totally in the dark of how they can live their lives as a human-vampire couple; it's amazing, but confusing. To be able to love someone like that.

The room was starting to become boring and I was getting restless, so I resolved to properly explore the old building - there weren't too many students wandering about; they were either in their rooms, out, or lived in the village below. Walking down the vast corridors, I noticed the way all the portraits of past head masters looked down at me in distaste, it sounds cliché but it's true, they were glaring down at the little ingrate sullying their school's reputation. Doesn't matter. I didn't think I belonged here either.

After what seemed like hours of winding corridors and oh so impressive staircases I managed to locate the canteen where a few students were milling around in quiet conversation. Quite a few stared as I walked in the room, but one boy waved me over: Trevor – I'd stood next to him during the head teacher's announcement and afterwards we'd made introductions.

"Stuart!" He waved and smiled shyly, showing a hint of his braces. He was almost as skinny as me and had auburn hair that together with his sky blue eyes and freckles made him very endearing to look at.

"A'right Trev?" I walked over and sat opposite him on the wooden table.

"Yeh I'm good, just waiting for my room-mate to get back from the village so he can show me around the library – I'm dangerously low on books!" Looking at the pile of thick reads next to him, I highly doubted that.

"Ya never gonna get through that pile!"

"This?" He glanced at his pile then gave a strangely confident smile. "Give me a week."

"Week? Shit, mate. Don't fink I could read _one_ of those in two months."

"Really? Don't you read much?"

I blushed slightly at his question – it was a subject of embarrassment for me.

"Nah I'm... a bit thick, the words start to swirl around if I concentrate on them too much. Go all blurry." He was quiet for a moment then his expression became softer, if that was possible.

"I don't think that means you're thick. Have you tried glasses, maybe?"

"Yeh – I've got glasses. Don't make a difference, I'm just not a book person. My room-mate is though, he was reading this massive book for ages earlier."

"Who's your room-mate? Mines Darren Wells, pretty nice guy but quiet. Then again I like quiet."

"Sounds like a good match for you – ya can be nerds together and read in unison!"

"Shut up." He pushed me playfully. "Who _is_ yours then?"

"Mine? Oh, yeh. His name's Murdoc."

Trevor went still.

"Murdoc... Niccals?"

"'Spose so... there can't be many Murdocs around here. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"No, go on."

"It's just he's... really strange."

"Yeh blud, I'd gathered that already – all the light bulbs in our room are smashed, he jus' uses candles!"

Trevor gave a nervous laugh, but continued.

"He's a bit weirder than candles, Stu." I was starting to get uncomfortable with this conversation.

"Ya gotta tell me then."

I watched Trevor visibly hesitate before leaning closer.

"He's just... strange. Moved here not long ago with his family – they live in Gloucester, but his brother knows some people in the area and he's... beyond odd. Creepy."

"Okay, but how's that make Murdoc weird?"

"Thing is, everyone's scared of him. He always did these weird rituals with... blood and stuff, his old room-mate told people. And one day someone confronted him about it, called him a freak or something and they..."

I felt like ice was running down my back.

"What?"

"Died."

"No, you believe that!" I knew quite a lot about school rumours.

"It happened! He tripped in PE and fell on a tree stump with a spike coming up from it. Went strait through his head"

"H-how is that related to Murdoc?" Now I was beyond easy.

"Don't you think it's a strange coincidence? They say he cursed the boy... people think he has some sort of pact with the Devil."

Murdoc having a pact with the Devil? People would say anything.

But still, as I neared the dorm door later that night, the room I hadn't realised I'd been avoiding all day by hanging out with Trevor, I started to feel sick.

 **(Leaving This World Behind – Trivium)**

Murdoc wasn't in there, but his book was. Lying on the bed like a sin wrapped in hate, everything around it began to shift and warp leaving it the only clear thing in my vision. I walked slowly over and stroked the front cover, then retracted my hand as I felt a stab of electricity run through my body. I breathed in deeply then made a snatch for the book and held on tight, even as the electric spike rushed through my body, until it subsided – this was definitely not a book to be messed with.

But I felt a longing to open it, to read the dark secrets it held.

I gently lifted the corner of the cover and a few pages to find a random place in the book. There was strange writing and scripture that I couldn't understand – but the diagram was clear enough. It was a child, a boy in his adolescence, my age. And he was tied to an inverted cross. And he was screaming. And he was on fire.

I heard someone marching loudly towards the door and at lightening speed dropped the book back on the bed and crawled underneath my covers, whimpering loudly when the palms of my hands scraped against the mattress.

The door was slammed open and a highly intoxicated body stumbled in loudly like a herd of vengeful elephants.

"Fuck, shhh, Murdoc – Stu's asleep, in' he? Is he?" Murdoc whispered to himself. He began to 'sneekily' creep over to my bed and stand, hovering over me.

"Stuart? You 'sleep?" I tried hard not to make a sound, to regulate my breathing, to think of anything other than what I'd seen. After careful observation he deemed me unconscious. Before ambling over to his own bed he leaned down and said in a very quiet voice: "Hey, Stu – don't get up! Heh."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes: Okay, so this is taking a slightly supernatural turn – but only in the sense that there's a pretty supernatural feel that follows Gorillaz around anyway with Murdoc's Satanism and the weird stuff that happens to them, so nothing majorly disruptive ;)**_

 _ **Thank you so much to Nerd Girl 1 for the lovely review!**_

 _My head dragged on the floor as he pulled me along by my feet, arms trailing behind._

" _Let go." I feebly beg._

" _I'm sorry. I need you." The figure rasps back in a cockney accent._

 _Murdoc suddenly drops my legs and pulls my drugged form upright by my arms. He holds me against something wooden and ties my wrists over my head._

" _Why me? Why is it me that you-" I'm cut off, spluttering as a thick oily liquid is poured down on me from above._

 _I shake my head, hair drenched and sticking to my face, so I can get a better look at him. His ribs are rising and falling eractically, clutching a lighter in one of his almost white fists. Tears shine in his dark eyes as he walk towards me, the flame struck._

" _Murdoc, Murdoc, stop! Fuck, stop!" I start thrashing around on the large wooden structure and scream, but they come out as whispers like my voice has been stolen away._

" _I'm so sorry." He looks deeply into my eyes before bringing the lighter up to the top of my hands. He leans in close, but before anything else happens, I ignite._

 _ **(Faster – Within Temptation)**_

Screaming and bolt upright is how I found myself Sunday morning. In a second those same eyes that had tormented me in the dream were beside my bed. My heart began to beat faster and faster and faster.

"Stuart? Stu?" Murdoc had a hold of my shoulders, shaking me roughly and somehow it felt as though he was putting the fire out. I became limp in his hands and let him keep shaking me until he slowed to a gentle rocking. I allowed my eyes to wander and saw the same pale waxy candles and black curtains – safe in the dorm room... or was I?

He'd stopped shaking me now, and I could tell he was waiting for some kind of explanation, but there was something keeping me from looking into those eyes.. I felt like they'd set me on fire.

"You gonna tell what's up?" his tone sounded impatient, yet he was still sat on the edge of my bed, his ashy long hand resting closely to my leg.

"I'm fine."

"You jus' 'ad a fit mate! What's so interesting about the wall?" I realised he was referring to my lack of eye contact.

"S-sorry."

"Yah still not looking." He gently took my chin with his fingers and directed my gaze to face him. I awaited my body to blaze up in flames – but it didn't happen.

"I just... 'ad a nightmare. It's fine, I'm fine." He kept ahold of my chin for a few moments longer, looking into my eyes like a lie detector, then let go and moseyed on back to his bed. I realised I'd been holding my breath so exhaled in relief.

"Well, dullard, I realise I wasn't a very 'responsible student'" he accentuated these words by making quotation marks with his fingers, "but I'm a busy person – had places to go, people to see. Today you have my undivided attention. Ish. I'm off again at four. So make the most of it!"

I was shocked – he'd practically ignored me last night and now I had to spend most of the day with him after what he did to me? Granted, it was in a dream, but still! It creeped me out to no end, especially after yesterday.

Yesterday. The book.

I looked down at my pale, lanky hands and turned them over to expose the palms. They had been badly burned from the shopping trolley incident so were a sore dark red – except there was now something else on them. Two symbols were emblazoned on the skin like deep welts: on the left, a circle with an upturned quarter moon on top of it, and on the right an upside-down pentagram.

What the...

I felt a piece of chipped off candle wax hit my head.

"You listening? Satan, you're slow."

"Sorry - fanks for... doing this. I appreciate it." I flipped them back over and buried them under the covers.

A disturbingly wide smile stretched across his face as he arose, took off the dirty CLASH t-shirt I assumed he'd slept in and reached for another one which had been permanently gracing the floor since my arrival.

"Good. Now what do ya wanna do?" I averted my eyes and felt a heavy blush creep across my face. Obviously this boy had no privacy issues.

"Uh, I dunno. I 'an't really got a clue what you lot do around here."

"Don't 'you lot' me. Don't class me as one of them, I'M not from here."

For some reason I felt an urge to push this further. "No?"

"Nope – Stoke, mate."

"Oh..." I had no idea how to continue, I'd known that already but I felt like I had to interrogate him, find out why (other than the obvious) people were so freaked out by him. He continued to bustle around the room, vaguely cleaning up, when he suddenly asked:

"Where you from? Somewhere where dying your hair blue isn't weird, I'm guessing." Ever since I fell out of that bloody tree I'd been getting really sick of going through this to people.

"It's not dyed."

He gave me a 'don't-shit-me' look.

"The fuck it isn't."

"Seriously, check – no roots."

He dropped some dirty trousers and came back over, eyeing my scalp suspiciously before expertly dividing between sections of my hair.

"See? No fading, no staining and no roots."

"Huh." He retreated again. "What's wrong with ya?"

"Nothings wrong with me! It fell out one day and it grew back... blue." For a second I thought he was going to come out with some indignant response but to my surprise he threw his head back and burst out laughing.

"You little freak, Stuart Pot! Oh, don' look so hurt. I'm a freak too, it's a good thing. And I've decided where I'm going to take you today." A wicked glint shone in his eyes as he looked at me. I could only stare back, like a deer spotted by a wolf that wants to play some twisted game.

Where was he taking me?

 _ **(No Surprises - Radiohead)**_

Outside in the school fields, I looked on at another grey day. There was something sinister about the weather: black clouds shielded the Earth in a claustrophobic yet vast blanket and mists thickened the air, giving the world a confusing blur.

"M-Murdoc?" I called to the quite-at-ease boy leading me through the same fields I ran away into the other day. Without looking back he answered.

"Yes, Stuart Pot?" Why did he use my full name like that...

"Where we going?" The grass was completely soaked in condensation – condensation which seeped it's way through my highly inefficient converse and into my even more inefficient socks.

"..."

"?"

"... Wait and see."

"I don't like surprises."

"That's a shame..." He began to zone out.

"Murdoc?" Maybe he'd sped up or I'd slowed down – the mist might have been getting thicker – but he began to disappear into it, out of site.

I walked faster but didn't see him – he'd completely gone.

"Murdoc?" I began to jog. Was I still going strait?

"Murdoc!" I don't know why, but the idea of losing him in the fog was panicking me, making my heart speed up. I ran and then smacked strait into the back of the raven-haired teen.

"You could at least try not to get lost. Come on." He gently took hold of my wrist and dragged me through the now knee-high damp maze. His hand had wrapped easily around my bony twig arm, and I was worrying again. He was too close to my hand, to the strange cuts I'd gained from looking into his world – a world that obviously should be left alone. I decided to clench my hand into a safe fist and follow the Satanist into the unknown.

"Do you eat anything?" It was a strange statement that seemed to come from nowhere.

"Yeh, course I do-"

"You can't." He shook my wrist whilst continuing to tug me along. "Ya way too skinny."

There it was – that uneasy territory he kept stepping into.

"Well, I don' eat masses."

He tutted.

"I get sick – it's not my fault."

"You look sick."

Somehow that statement stabbed me, made me feel far too upset.

But before I could dwell and sulk, we came to the sty.

"Over you go." He supported my forearm as I climbed over the wooden steps – even though I had cleared it in one jump the other day and was really quite tall for my age, I spose it was like a big brother instinct towards the 12 year old kid.

When I jumped down he followed me over then continued down the muddy path...

 _ **(Street Spirit - Radiohead)**_

The forest was serene and had less fog, but that didn't deter the eerie atmosphere.

Dark branches twisted and wound with one another, creating a spider web of wood and dark evergreen. I looked left and saw only the thicket of trees. I looked right and saw the same, so decided to focus on what was ahead – Murdoc. I began to take in his appearance some more: his jet-black hair glistened from the mist, looking like a deep dark pool of water. Paired with the t-shirt of questionable cleanliness, he was wearing some black skinny corduroys and scuffed up greying Doc Martens giving him a gothy careless look that I was beginning to find more interesting. Looking at him was odd, it was like that book; the air around him seemed to become heavier and blurred, shifting when he smiled. Which he did then, like an excited child. I suppose at fifteen, he still counted as a child.

He stopped and waited for me to catch up before stepping behind me and putting his hands over my eyes.

"Keep goin'."

Blinded, I carried on walking where he guided me, stumbling every few seconds on a stray root.

Eventually we stopped.

"Okay, you can look." He slowly removed his hands. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did I was speechless.

We were stood on the edge of a vast quarry in the middle of the woodland. It appeared to be at least 50 ft deep, but that was hard to tell when it was full halfway with dark, still water - there was no wind, the leaves didn't rustle, everything was still as if holding it's breath.

"It's amazing." I breathed.

"Yeh, I know." Murdoc seemed pretty pleased to have gotten this reaction out of me.

Everything suddenly started to move. The wind surged through the branches, leaving the trees aching and grinding with their own weight, the stray leaves on the floor picked up and danced around and the water's surface swirled.

Without a moments thought, I ran for the edge and jumped.

If Murdoc called after me, I didn't hear it.

I hit the water like a bullet and quickly sank, the sudden numb quietness taking over my head. I turned in the water slowly so my body twirled in the mass of bubbles it had created. Opening my eyes I looked around at the blurry underwater scene – above, the light shone down through the far away trees creating a green shine to the surface of the pool like millions of faeires had lit it up. Starting to get light headed, I looked down as I heard a loud thump resonate through the water, and saw beautiful darkness, never ending like the confusing hues in Murdoc's hair. I could have looked at it forever.

Ruuuuush!

My head was pulled up out of the water by my collar – the hand on said collar belonging to a completely soaking ashy skinned boy. He looked mad.

"Are you actually fucking insane, Stuart?!" I began to look away meekly but he gave me a sahke and continued.

"Yes – yes you are." He suddenly broke out in a wide grin. "Absolutely fucking mental."

I smiled back at him and we both proceeded to swim back to the edge of the quarry and climb back up.

 _ **(Tomorrow Comes Today – Gorillaz)**_

Murdoc was lying flat on the ground apparently 'drying off, dullard.'

I looked at the serene scene around me and couldn't help wondering why Murdoc had taken me, a boy he'd known just two days, to such an amazing place.

"Does the whole school know 'bout this quarry?" I inquired.

"Think they'd be smart 'nough to find somewhere like this? They're too busy playing polo. Heh."

"Oh." So it was like 'his place?' I pushed it a little further.

"You must bring quite a few people here 'en, seeing as only you can find it."

He started to sound exasperated. "Nope, just you."

"Oh." I was starting to sound like a parrot. I was probably annoying him.

He quickly sat up, shook his hair like a wet dog and turned to mimic my cross-legged pose.

"So, why are you here anyway?"

"W-well, you asked me to come..." He laughed at this.

"No – why you here, at this school? You must've been sent away for a reason?" He looked at me with those intense, mahogany eyes as though he were trying to see through mine into my soul. I had no idea why, but it was making my pulse quicken again, making me feel like a frightened little animal.

"I was sent 'ere. By me Mum and Dad."

"Yeh, but _why_?" He scooted a little bit closer.

"Uh, I was bad. They were sick of me. Why are you asking?" I was blunt but he kept pushing.

"What was it, that finally drove them too it? You don' just send a kid away if he's pissing you off. What drove them to it?" Those shining eyes were boring into me.

"I..." I took a deep breath. "Did something weird."

"Not surprising – ya got weird written all over you, love."

"Yeh but this was... more than a little strange."

He gave a devilish smile.

"I'm all ears."

I felt like I could trust him.

"I don' know why I did it – I just felt... like... _sad_ , or bloody _depressed..._ I dunno. But I was in the co-op car park and... climbed-into-a trolley-with-loadsa-paper-and-set-it-on-fire." I said the last bit so fast I wasn't sure he'd heard it. He went silent and turned away.

He got up and started to walk off.

"We should go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: Just a warning for this chapter, contains sexual content to do with a minor which I know some people will be uncomfortable with.**

 **Again, thanks for the reviews, to know people took time in reviewing something I've written is really touching :)**

The walk back was painful; Murdoc was silent and would only answer my questions with a grunt.

What had I done that made him so moody with me? HE was the one asking as to why I was sent away, then I'M the one who gets ignored? The more time I spent with him, the more confused I became at his actions.

As soon as we got back to the building, Murdoc walked away down the corridor to the main door without a word. I suppose it _was_ four.

 _ **(Pumped Up Kicks – Foster the People)**_

When I got back to the room I was, one again, alone.

I lay down for a bit.

I tried to read a comic I'd brought with me, but threw it on the floor in frustration as the words began to dance around.

I jumped on my bed. It wasn't very springy.

I jumped on Murdoc's bed (then quickly made it again.)

I finally unpacked the suitcase I'd been living out of.

But nothing could shake the feeling that I'd been totally, undeniably _ditched_. Feeling low and sorry for myself, I started to imagine how sorry Murdoc would be if something were to happen to me, if – in my lonely despair – I were to do something drastic. A cruel smile spread across my lips. It was my favourite game to play when my parents used to go out drinking.

I extended my thumb and forefingers into a gun and experimented where I would shoot – stomach? Too painful. Side of the head? Cliché. Through the mouth... just about dramatic enough! I opened my mouth, slid the "gun" inside and counted in my head:

"One, two, three. Bang." I pulled the trigger.

After a few moments I opened my eyes. A strange sadness filled me when I realised I wasn't dead and my eyes actually started to water a little. What was I doing? I was a pathetic kid playing a pathetic game. No wonder he suddenly got sick of me.

There was no use sitting around feeling depressed – I knew the pathway down to the village, I may as well check it out, and if Murdoc was there, so what? It wasn't like I was looking out for him.

 _ **(Hong Kong – Gorillaz)**_

It was five now, I'd killed a whole hour.

Pushing open the heavy doors into the darkening September evening I felt a sudden rush of cold air on my face and neck pushing me back towards the inside of the building – at least I'd changed into a dry hoodie.

The path was long and winding, shaded and made darker by the heavy trees, but at least it was shielded from the wind. Looking at the ground dotted with weak sunlight fighting its way through the leaves, I noticed my trainers made soft indentions in the damp wood chippings that formed the pathway, and for some reason I was reminded of Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find their way home: not that I needed to follow my footprints back, but it was sort of comforting to know they were there. After twenty minutes of melancholic, repetitive treading, I emerged out of the other end and saw the village.

It looked like any normal rural community – cobbled streets, old women on bikes with baskets, a nice big clock in the centre. Whilst walking down these cobbled streets (and trying really hard not to twist my ankle) I browsed the local shops that were still open – namely the newsagents and a bike repairers. I spent a long time in the newsagents, staring at the cigarettes behind the counter lustfully until the owner ushered me out with a pitied expression.

"Come on now, son."

What the hell did everyone DO in this village? That's where all the year tens and elevens were... except they weren't.

NOT that I was looking for anyone in particular, I was just curious.

That was until I saw faintly, behind the butchers, a green glow. It was coming from an alleyway.

I wandered over wearily and looked down: the glow was coming from around a left hand corner about 20ft away.

Slowly making my way deeper into the alleyway, I noticed the hustle and bustle from the street getting quieter as people went back to their homes, or maybe that was just because I was walking away – I wasn't sure. There were bins lining the tall red brick walls, some fallen over with Tom cats crawling inside, some empty and somehow sadder looking. I stopped at the corner and peeked around, disappointed yet more intrigued as I saw ANOTHER 20 ft alleyway and then a right hand corner. Far fetched but, sure enough, there was the green glow, coming from around that increasingly enticing bend – how had I seen it from all the way in the street?

I crawled through a hole in a fence that was in the middle of the path, scratching my wrist on the dirty wire.

"Owch."

I paused and sucked for a little while to stop it getting infected then carried on to the edge of the corner. I slowly shuffled closer and bent my head around – what?

It was one of the strangest things I'd ever seen: there were 3 doors on each side of the walls, all with different neon signs saying names like "The Pink Flamingo" and "Chandelier Castle." Outside each door, somebody was stood, guarding it supposedly, and around _them_ was a group of milling people, all deciding which to enter.

Outside the "Pink Flamingo" which had a sign of bright, you guessed it, pink, was an impeccably groomed male with bleached white hair and an ornage satin shirt. As I rounded the corner properly and started to walk down this strange narrow street he winked at me.

"Hey, babe." He whispered flirtily – I walked past him quickly and made room for a group of equally well dressed young men to flock around. At the door of the sexy red coloured "Chandelier Castle" was a large bald headed man in a black suit and tie – he started to glare at me so I hurried on by.

I did this for each door, seeing someone scary or plain weird standing there and quickly scurrying away. That was, until I got to the last door with the fluorescent green sign saying "Knife's Edge." Sat on the stone step underneath the door was a Chinese women of about 30 dressed in a silky black dress. She had thick swooping eye-liner and blood red lips, matching her blood red nails. Those nails glinted in the artificial light as she extended then curled a finger in my direction – beckoning me. I hesitantly approached her.

 _ **(music quietly coming from inside the door)**_

She smiled, dark lips stretching, and held her palm out to me. When I stayed still, she raised her eyebrows and clicked her fingers meaningfully. I held out my own hand which she made a sharp grab for and pulled me closer. As her smile got bigger I noticed how sharp her canines seemed, like a wolf.

"Don' be afraid, child." Her thick accent matched the smell of cherry blossom coming from her skin.

"Nothing to hide." With this she turned over my hand to expose my palm then gasped.

"Marked. My little Devil, this is meant to be." She looked up from the upside-down pentagram scar on my right hand. I was completely lost.

"I really don't know where that came from, I'm sorry I have to go." I made a move to leave but she clutched on.

"See." She growled and pointed at her eyes. "See, child, you not go. This is where all Devils go – you don't want to look?"

I glanced at the door. I did want to look...

She let go.

"If you really don't-"

"Wait!" I interrupted, drawing a knowing smile from the women. "I wouldn't mind looking, I 'spose."

She stood, removed a large rustic key from a chain around her neck and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, she whispered:

"Have fun, little Devil" and pushed me inside.

 _ **(music playing: Sometimes I Wish I was Dead – Assemblage 23)**_

The air inside was thick and smoky, the cause being lots and lots of opium pipes.

Okay. So it was a drug den. Nice one, enticing asain women. Who smoked opium nowadays?

Turning around to back out, I saw the door I'd come through had no handle – must be entrance only.

The lighting was low, but there were spotlights of green and red swirling around the room in chaotic agony, highlighting different people in various positions of disgrace: having weird sex, throwing up on themselves, getting beaten up by men they owed money, I guessed.

Staying as low as I possibly could, I wound in and out of the booths and tables housing wasted individuals spouting out the meaning of life, the universe and everything, dodging gross looking stains on the floor as I did so. Squinting, I was able to see a door at the other end of the room labelled 'exit' – escape!

I quickly darted across the room, ran smack into the back of some random bloke, rebounded off of him and ended up flat on the floor.

Opening my eyes I saw in the dim light black hair and green-tinted skin – Murdoc. He'd seen me in a crack den. I was just about ready to crawl away in shame when he offered his hand down to help me up and, seeing as there was no quicker way out of this tricky situation, I accepted it and allowed him to haul me up.

That's when I noticed Murdoc had grown. And had a mohawk. And green eyes.

Oh, and that it wasn't Murdoc.

It was the boy from the train.

I stared in fear as he looked back at me, amused to the shaking little kid before him.

"Um, I'm s-sorry, I didn't see ya. I'll let you... ah, get on." I went to walk around him but he stepped in front of my path like a terrifying wall of... terror.

"Wait, don' I know you from somewheh?" For someone who wasn't Murdoc he sounded an awful lot like him – the same accent but... harder. Rougher.

"I don' fink so. Sorry." I quickly stepped around him but he grasped a-hold of my wrist and dragged me back. By this point I was shaking.

"No, no. I don' forget people. And I know you." He tilted his head to the side and without realising I copied him. He laughed at this.

"Ya like a budgie, ain't ya? A little blue bird. That's it! The blue hair, ya the kid from the train, right?"

"I don' know what ya talking 'bout, I need to go-"

"Don' lie. You looked scared back then, like you do now. Why is it you always look so scared, little blue bird?" He started to pull me closer to him and as he did so, guide me away from the middle of the room and, presumably, the attention of other people to the sidelines.

"I'm not scared."

"Lying again – you've got a bad little habit there, don't you?" He let his free hand stray through my hair, running it deep into the roots.

"Eh? Din't anyone ever tell you to answer ya elders?" He pulled gently.

I couldn't help myself, I was always a bit of an idiot when it came to knowing what to say, so I blurted out something completely stupid:

"How do you know you're my elder?" He stared for a moment then laughed again.

"How do I know?" his hand left my hair and travelled down to my waist. "Cause you're the skinniest little kid I've ever met, and I'm 20 which makes you definitely younger than me. Wanna bet? How old are you?"

"Twelwve." He grinned.

"Aw, bless. Young _and_ cute. What's your name, darling?"

"Stuart." I whispered it quietly hoping he wouldn't hear.

"Stuart." He whispered the name equally quietly into my ear, making me cringe against his hand. He felt this and pulled me closer.

"What's up? Nervous, little bird? I've got something to make you feel better." He produced a packet of pills as brightly coloured as the neon signs outside – I'm not thick... much. I knew it wasn't a good idea.

But, strangely, Murdoc popped into my head, expression full of concern, warning me not to do it, to run away while he was occupied with the packet. That would've been the smart thing to do. But why should I listen to Murdoc? He'd left me. He obviously didn't care.

I moved in a little closer which caused a disgusting smile from the man, his sickly green eyes lustful and greedy. He swallowed two of the pills then placed another two in his mouth, grasped my face with his sweaty hands and crushed his face against mine, forcing the pills inside. I swallowed quickly so I didn't choke, but before the kiss was over his tongue pushed through my lips and did a quick lap of my mouth.

Never mind the effect of the pills, I could've thrown up at the idea of myself then and there.

"Wasn't so bad, eh love?" He started to stroke my hair again. "Ya so pretty. Pretty blue hair," he stared deeply at my face, crouched like a tiger to my level, "pretty grey eyes, pretty white skin. 'ere, come with me. I wanna show everyone how pretty you are. I'm Hannibal, by the way." His pupils were increasing in size, showing the quick-acting pills start to already take effect. Must be happening to me to.

 _ **(La Fee Verte – Kasabian)**_

For too many hours to count, Hannibal dragged me around the den to various strange people, who may or may not have felt me up – I don't know. I didn't know anything: the world swirled around me and I swirled with it, light headed like I was suspended in green glowing water. But this time, Murdoc wasn't there to drag me out.

I tasted bile in my mouth, so knew I must've been sick, but didn't remember doing it. Eventually, I remember Hannibal touching me, getting closer to something I didn't want but didn't have the strength to refuse, when his friends came up to him, worried looks on their faces.

"Han." I vaguely remembered him from the train.

"Can you not see I'm BUSY at the moment, Kenny?" Kenny looked at me, then back at Hannibal with fear in his eyes, but continued.

"Mate, we've gotta go. It's ya brovva. He's been seen around earlier on and you know what'll happen if he tells the school you're back."

"I'm not afraid of my _little,_ pathetic brother." He spat, but his face betrayed different emotions. Worry. He faced me again.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to leave you now little blue bird – but don' be a stranger; I wanna see you again." He gave me a disgustingly sloppy kiss which I half-accepted in my inhibited state.

"Let's go." He got up and left without a second glance back.

How long was it before I actually got up and left? Who knows. I just remember stumbling past persons equally smashed as myself also trying to make it to the door, like a group of bees, disorientated as they flee their hive from the smoke.

The door opened up to the bottom of the path to the school – don't ask me how that architecture works, but it turned out to be quite useful for me. I began the slowly and definitely not steady ascent up the hill, stopping every now and then to remember whether I should be going up or down. I was terrified: the trees reached out at me with pointy, painful claws, their shadows reaching so much further than their branches. The shadows were everywhere, clinging to my body and dragging me back from my goal.

Salty tears started to gently slip down my cheeks as I descended further and further into psychosis, I tugged at my horribly bright hair, wishing it would go back to the mousy colour I used to know so well... who was this blue haired boy? I wasn't sure I wanted to know him.

Eventually I saw the lights of the school shining over the hill. I'd made it. That last bit of the journey was by far the longest, but as sure at the sun rises I made it to that big wooden door.

Being as quiet as I could consciously allow myself to be, I padded through the stony building to my dorm room door.

Was he in there?

I looked at myself in the reflective glass of a painting on the opposite wall, looked at my swollen mouth and blood shot eyes. I'd never seen something so vile.

What had I done?

I leant against that wall and collapsed from a mixture of sickness and shame, crying, and would've probably stayed that way if a familiar face hadn't opened the door.

The first expression I made out was shock, then worry, then anger.

"What the FUCK?" He dashed over to me and hauled me into the room, slamming the door behind us. He sat me down on the bed and repeated himself, but quieter this time.

"What the fuck..." His eyes were shiny and he furiously looked away, then back.

"Are you drunk? High? You're twelve, what the fuck were you thinking? Are you even listening to me?"

I wanted to listen but I felt completely unable to do so.

"How can you be that stupid? Are you even with me right now?"

I wish I was.

"Stuart." I could tell he was trying to keep his breathing under control. For the first time I noticed an inhaler on the side table. "I've been looking for you for hours. Tell me what you've taken."

I remembered the rainbow coloured pills.

"Green."

"Green? Weed?" He sounded relieved.

"And red and blue and yellow."

" _What_ are you talking about?"

"Pills, Murdoc." He went pale. He started asking a question a minute, questions I couldn't keep up with. In the end I managed to convey the important message over to him:

"I'm tired. Can I go to bed?" He stood up and ran his hands through his hair, thinking, then suddenly ran round to the other side of the room to his bed and with great effort pushed it so it was almost touching mine.

"Right, you can go to bed – but if anything happens I want ya to tell me okay? I'll be 'ere next to you. Okay?" He was sat on his now very close bed, searching my eyes for any comprehension. I looked into them and said the first thing that came to my head.

"Brown eyes are so much nicer than green, ya know."

He looked exasperated as he pushed me gently down into my bed, then lay down in his own.

"Night, Stu-Pot."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: I hope everyone liked the last chapter – I was a bit worried it was a "wtf is this. Call this a story?" moment ;)**

 **Thank you so much Alternative Self for the lush review (2D is so damn cute!), Nerd Girl 1 for sticking through with this story and everyone else for reading – I shall continue!**

 _ **(Come Alive – Foo Fighters)**_

I woke, head pounding.

When I felt a foreign hand on my waist, I froze. Fear turned my blood to ice, and I swear the room dropped ten degrees, the walls going blue and the sheets hardening from frost. Daring to open one eye, I saw who the hand belonged to: Murdoc. His arm was stretched across the narrow gap separating our beds, hand draping lightly on my waist. He was wearing a gentle frown, chewing his lip in dreamland.

I let out a deep sigh. Just him.

Then froze again.

What was Murdoc's hand doing on my waist?

The whole night came flooding back, the secret street, Hannibal, the pills, the weird men, Murdoc's worried face...

I started to squirm in disgust at myself, toes curling, my memory straining to recall all the sins I committed. Did he touch me? Did _other_ people touch me?

He started to shift, elongating his spine in a stretch as he arose from a deep sleep – he must be tired, he didn't sleep much last night – so I closed my eyes and went limp, focused on making my breathing as peaceful and unassuming as possible.

I heard more stretching, bed creaking and, finally, a hand retracting from my waist quickly with a low gasp. He was silent for a moment and I felt the pressure of retaining my composure so much, I almost broke it – like when you play sleeping lions and you know the judge is walking towards you.

But I wasn't the lion in this situation, I was the lamb, and I had been a **very** bad lamb.

I heard scribbling and the sound of tearing paper before feeling a light, almost ghostly stroke on my hair. The door slammed loudly.

I blinked heavily, coming back into the world, and scanned the room – he was definitely gone, and in his absence was a hastily scrawled note:

 _'Gone out early – no lessons for year 11's today. You have though. Get up.'_

Seeing his angry writing sent streams of tears running down my face, knees brought up to the chest. I'd travelled across the country because I was bad, and now I was just being bad here too – and in the worst kind of way.

Getting up to brush my teeth, I averted the bathroom mirror; looking at myself was too painful. I didn't want to know him. I ran the water extra cold to wake my face up, and as I brought my water filled hands towards my face, saw something which made me yelp.

There were more symbols on my hands, the same scarred, raised red marks going down my wrists: on each one, a stick man. I clenched them into fists and punched the bathroom wall hard.

"Stupid, stupid slut!" I screamed at it. "I hate you!" I collapsed to the floor.

"I hate you..."

I slowly uncurled my fingers, hoping I'd imagined the skinny figures, but no. There they were, as confusing and hard to ignore as ever.

"What the fuck is 'appening to me..." It wasn't even a question, it was a plea for help.

 _ **(On Melancholy Hill – Gorillaz)**_

Before setting off, I buried Murdoc's note in my pocket – I don't know why. Maybe as a reminder that, at least for a short time, one person cared about me.

Going through that door and hearing gentle murmuring from down the stairs was an odd experience, I'd already dubbed this building as an ageing haunted mansion but it completely changed when people graced it's corridors: it was a precarious hierarchy of academics, the top years blind to anyone who wasn't a rival for a place at Oxford and the youngers scurrying around in their wake hoping, they too, could one day become a high achieving pretentious twat.

I felt so out of place, a year 8 joining a school made for academics when I'm the furthest thing from that – but I had to try. If not for me, for Mum and Dad. I was sick of letting them down so royally.

My first lesson: maths. Just the thought of that word makes me shudder.

I was the last to enter the room despite plenty of students still milling around in the corridors, so intruded on a deadly silence and an in sync look from every kid in the room. The teacher was old, but young enough to still look able to wack you with a ruler if given the chance. He made a great show of turning to regard me.

"Ah you _must_ be Stuart. By far the most recognisable student in school." A blonde haired boy in the front row sniggered in a way that told you he wanted to say 'good one, Sir." I disliked him already.

I nervously laughed. "Yeh, I must be."

"Right, find a seat anywhere in the class and we'll _finally_ begin." Anywhere in the class? There was one seat available at the back – thank God it was next to the amazing Trevor, brainiest year 7 in the school that'd been bumped up a year.

"Hi." He whispered with a smile as I walked over.

"A'right, mate." I whispered back, setting down my bag.

The man's eyes followed me around the room and didn't leave until I was completely still and silent.

"Now Mr Pot has decided to grace us with his presence, I'll continue. I'm Mr Emerson, and I'll be teaching you everything you will ever need to know about maths including algebra, trigonometry and statistics."

"When we gonna need to know about algebra?" I whispered at Trev, who was about to answer wheeen...

"Something you'd like to share with us, Stuart?"

I'm could've kept quiet, but that would be too smart a thing for me to do.

"Yeh, when are we ever gonna need to know about algebra? Like, in life. And stuff." There were a few laughs from the rest of the class, but Trevor was quiet.

"You're questioning me? Is that it? You think you know more about maths and life than someone who's taught maths for 30 years?" I could see a vein straining in his neck – I don't think he was used to being talked to like that.

"Well, yeh. Other than an algebra teacher, who's gonna need to know the value of X?"

Everyone was quiet.

"Leave."

"Leave?"

"YES, LEAVE." He growled it down the rows and I could see the entire class shake a little.

"Um... okay." I picked up my bag and walked past the shocked faces, the steaming teacher and out of the door. It was slammed behind me.

What now?

I did nothing in particular around the building until Trevor was released from his lock-up.

"What was all that about? How is sending someone out a lesson to do fuck all a punishment?"

Trev looked at me confused.

"How are you going to get good grades if you're not in lessons?"

"You think I care about grades?"

"What would your parents say?

"They wouldn't care!"

"Lucky you." He looked depressed, but his comment made me feel a little sad too.

"Yeh, lucky me..."

He shuffled on the spot awkwardly, obviously regretting getting this reaction out of me. He switched to a big smile.

"Hey, at least no teachers for a while!"

"Eh?"

"Well, if you're in the same lesson as me next," He turned me around and rifled through my bag for my timetable. After studying he turned me back around: "Which you _are,_ that means we have English next, and it's a reading lesson so we can go to the library."

I never thought I'd ever feel happy about going to the library.

 _ **(Miami Nice - Elastica)**_

Trev came back to our table in the vast library with an armful of books. I jumped up to help him.

"Thanks Stu. What are you going to read?"

"'aven't really thought about it. I don't read much." He considered this for a moment.

"Is there anything you're interested in?" And then an idea hit me. I'd been thinking of it for a while and now was the time.

"Actually, I need to research something, and I was wondering if you could help me?"

He looked thrilled. "Yeh, what is it?"

"Um... black magic."

"Black magic?"

"Mm."

"What's this for?"

"Nothing really. My own reasons. Do you think there'd be any books on it?"

"Maybe... I'll be back in a sec."

When Trevor returned in five measly minutes he had three books.

"Trev, mate, nice one!"

He regarded me with a nervous smile. "I'm good at finding books."

I saw it. At the bottom of the pile. It wasn't the same size, or the same colour as Murdoc's, but when everything around it shifted, I knew it was important.

"That one." I pointed at it. "We should look at that one first."

He removed it from the pile and started to flick through the pages. "Wow this is really old." He stopped on a page with symbols and I felt my breathing quicken when I saw not just the two original symbols decorating my palms, but a stick man as well. Trevor was consumed in the book.

"Look." He pointed to the circle with the quarter moon on top. "It says this is the God symbol. Pagan. I seems as though it's a mix of pagan and Satanist rituals..."

He noticed my composure. "Are you all right? Your eyes are all big." He then jumped noticeably and grasped my wrist turning my palm over. He'd seen.

I struggled against him. "No, Trev, stop." Once I wriggled one wrist free he snagged the other one and looked at the markings in horror.

"Oh my God... Where did those come from? Did someone cut you?"

I couldn't see properly, all I could think about was my only friend at school leaving me because I was a cursed freak. My eyes started to water and I quickly got up.

"Don't worry about it, just forget you saw it. Just forget it." I ran away from the library, furiously wiping my streaming eyes. Thankfully, he wasn't in any of my other lessons that day.

 _ **(Hurt – Johnny Cash)**_

Everything hurt. Every person I'd encountered here gave me a stab of pain when I thought about them: my lost friendship with Trevor, Hannibal and his weird pills, Murdoc... well, just Murdoc, generally, caused a strange feeling to wash through my body.

I ached to see him, and I didn't know why. I wanted to talk to him, about nothing and everything. It hurt me more than anything else knowing he hated me.

It was drizzling outside, the winter weather slowly setting in. I grabbed a heavy black parka and started walking out into the fields on a journey so familiar, though I'd only made it twice. I gently clambered over the slippery moss covered sty, feeling sorry Murdoc wasn't there to help me. It was lighter than when we set off yesterday, so there was a lot more green fairy light shining through the gaps in the canopy, making patchy patterns on the ground. I made a game of not stepping on them, mostly to calm my nerves as I came closer to that place.

The rain, unlike the light, was finding it hard to get through the trees so I left my hood down and let the gentle patter fall onto my hair. It made the whole wood smell of mud and grass, an amazing aroma that took over my body, made me close my eyes and walk a few feet blind, able to see everything in my mind. For a moment, I forgot I was without a friend, forgot about my creepy palms and just lost myself in the moment. The sounds of birds and other animals rustling around in the undergrowth was a soothing music mixing to the constant beat of patterning rain on the leaves.

I imagined what I would see if I opened my eyes, and ahead of me, in my imaginary pathway, he way there, raven hair shining almost a dark blue in the rainy, cold sun, ashy skin seeming so at home in the woodland setting.

I opened my eyes and the moment was over. I was alone once again.

But not for long.

As I neared the clearing I saw Hannibal sitting on the rock. He was far away, but his poison green eyes saw me and instantly a devious smile came across him.

"Hello, Bluebird."

How did he find me?

Why was he here?

I didn't even have to think about it. I ran as fast as my gazelle legs could carry me. Far off I heard him crashing through the plant life, chasing after me, but I didn't dare look back.

"Stuart!" Came his distant yell though the trees.

I rounded a corner in the pathway and did some crashing of my own – strait into Murdoc.

"Stu, what are you-"

But I was all ready running out through the woods and into the fields and just as I'd hoped, Murdoc started running after me. I didn't want him and Hannibal meeting: that was an incident I was saving for the day the world ended.

Just as I came to our room, he caught up with me and we tumbled through the door together in a heap of panting and sweating. I was pinned to the ground and he had fallen on top of me.

He didn't move for a moment, just stared into my eyes, propped up on his hands over my body, looking at me.

"Murdoc?"

"Yeh?"

"I'm so sorry, please don't hate me."

He looked confused.

"Why would I 'ate you?" He seemed at that moment to suddenly realise our strange position and hopped off of me quickly. "Sorry about that, did I hurt you?" I picked myself up and wandered over to the bed as he gently closed the door.

"No, no it's okay. It was my fault anyway for running."

"What were you running from?"

"... I thought I saw... a ghost."

"A ghost?"

"In the lake."

He sat on his bed, the narrow gap causing his knees to squish. I had mine crossed on the bed - even though he was older, my legs were longer.

"Sounds like my mother." He gave a sad smile.

"Sorry?"

"I never really met her. She was in a mental hospital when she had me. Drowned herself in the bath tub and I was taken to live with my dad and-" he suddenly looked shocked at himself. "I'm sorry, I 'ave no idea why I just told you that."

"That's okay. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"How would you know? It's fine. I didn't even know her." There was a sad silence, a silence I felt he was quietly giving to his mum.

"So, why do you think I hate you?" He clasped his palms together, elbows rested on knees, looking at me seriously.

"Uh, what I did the other night. The... drugs. I was so stupid and I made you mad."

He let out a deep sigh.

"I wasn't mad, mate. I was worried. It's different. There's you, this sweet kid, twelve years old, taking pills from-" Anger suddenly flashed through his eyes and his tone became stony.

"Tell me who gave them to you."

"Mur-"

"Tell me."

"I can't."

"Yeh, you can and ya going to." The sleeves on his dark grey shirt were pushed up and I could see the veins in his arms standing out thickly. It reminded me of Mr Emerson.

"B-but I can't," my voice was shaky, "It's more complicated than that, it's not just drugs..."

His eyes almost popped out of his head as he leaned forward and grabbed my arm.

"What has he done to you?! Has he touched you? Tell me!"

"Stop it, you're 'urting!" His nails were digging into my skin, but he was also dangerously close to my hands and their devilish contents.

He let go and put his head in his hands.

"Murdoc? I'm sorry. It's not like that. I got them from a boy at school, my year. It wasn't his fault, that's why I can't tell you." He stayed hunched over put his dark eyes peeped out of his hands.

"Yeh?"

"Yeh."

"No-ones been... you know..."

"No." I lied.

He let out a deep sigh and flopped back onto his bed.

"Sorry, Stu-Pot. Didn't mean ta yell."

"I know. You don' have to feel so responsible for me. I looked after myself fine before I came here."

"Your parents didn't look after you great then?"

I looked away. "They just weren't massively bothered. It's okay though."

"I don't know why I feel responsible for you. I like you, you're a nice person. I feel like I want to look after you. Keep you safe." His eyes flicked towards me. "That weird?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"Isn't that the general definition of a friend? Caring about someone and looking out for them?"

"I never thought of it like that. I 'spose."

"Then no, it's not weird."

 _ **(Here With Me – Dido)**_

The middle of the night. Hannibal was invading my dreams.

"Bluebiiird." He called out for me in the vast woodland. I tried to run for the way out, but it suddenly burst into a wall of fire.

I turned around to find a new path, but Hannibal was there. We were surrounded by fire and then we weren't even in the woods, we were in a dirty room with a double bed. He threw down a lighter at the bed and it flared up.

"Come on Bluebird. Don't make me 'urt you." He grabbed onto my wrists and forced me onto the blazing bed, it's flames burning the flesh on my back. He climbed on top of me and-

When I woke up, I didn't scream, but started to cry. My dream hadn't stopped there, it had carried on in strange and horrible ways. It was so confusing, I couldn't think. I just kept crying in the darkness.

"Hey, hey, come on, what's up?" He was all ready sat up, sleepy but concerned.

I couldn't speak, couldn't tell him what had happened. It made me feel disgusting.

"Come 'ere." He shuffled over in his bed and patted it. I stayed where I was for a moment, staring at his bed. I couldn't be sure it wouldn't set on fire.

"Trust me, I'm good at getting rid of nightmares. I'll show you." I gave in and climbed into his covers, laying my head down on the slightly rough pillow. He laid down too.

"Okay. Go to sleep. You won't have any nightmares, they're too scared to show up when I'm around." He flashed a smile at me and I couldn't help noticing his canines were very pointy, like the women outside Knife's Edge. But I didn't feel afraid, I felt completely safe. For some reason, I trusted this strange teenager with my life.

I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up before Murdoc, and noticed a small slip of paper had been jammed under the door. I padded over and picked it up:

'Stuart, it's Trevor. I read some more of that book and you're not safe. We need to talk about Murdoc.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: Okay so yet again, this chapter is slightly, ahem, "risque" on the old 2D's pretty young and he's getting involved sexually with older people front. So just a warning, don't read if you don't want to read that sort of thing – thanks again for all the views and reviews and whatever else you've been doing with this story :D**

Before I even heard what Trevor said, when I was sitting down opposite him in the library waiting for him to start, I felt broken. I knew what sort of thing this was going to entail.

He looked uncomfortable.

"Hi, Stu. How are you feeling?"

"Um... not great, Trev. I got ya note... I'm sorry I ran away from you the other day."

"It's okay, you were upset." He licked his lips and his eyes flitted down to my hands. I slowly turned them over and held them out on the desk in front of him. Instead of looking horrified or disgusted or - knowing him - interested, he looked sad.

"Shit.." he whispered.

I was starting to get worried. "Trev? What is it?" He sighed and reached into his bag where he brought out the book. I started to feel hot. He opened the book carefully and found the page he wanted very quickly – he'd been reading it a lot it seemed.

"You know I said there were rumours about Murdoc... with the boy, and the..."

"The one who died."

"Yeh. Well, people say he did it with magic. I know that sounds a little... crazy."

I looked at him blankly but on the inside I was in full on panic mode.

"Carry on."

"The boy he killed was his last room-mate."

Now I must be showing my panic. But he didn't stop, like he had to get everything out now or he'd never tell me.

"Do you know anything about making pacts with the Devil?" He asked.

"Yeh I took a course in it last year. No, Trev. Sorry. Carry on." I felt guilty for acting like a dick but I was really to explode from the turmoil of emotions raging in my head.

"It's okay. There are a few ways to do it, these people believe. It's always in order to gain something they want. There's one that comes up in this book – a pact you make to get everything you've ever wanted, be omnipotent... but there's a cost."

"Cost?" Did I want to know?

"You slowly start to _become_ something evil, a daemon."

It took me a while to process everything he told me. What was Murdoc doing with a book like that?

"So, Murdoc's trying to make a pact with the Devil..." My mouth went dry. It was Trevor's face, looking at me.

"The way you do it. The way you make this particular pact... see the _book_ chooses someone for you."

"Chooses someone for WHAT?" I was getting louder, more scared.

"The ritual." He said it so quietly I strained to hear him. I gave him a questioning look, but he just turned the pages towards me, showing the English translation of the writing I'd seen in the dorm-room and a diagram. A diagram of a young boy burning on an inverted wooden cross.

He leaned forward and grabbed one of my hands. "The way the person knows who's been chosen..." He didn't need to tell me. His eyes once more looked down at my palms with devastating empathy.

I gently shook his hand off and went to get up, but he grasped on tight.

"Wait! Stuart, don't run yet. I don't know anything about this stuff – I want to help you but-" his voice cracked and his eyes went shiny. I felt so sorry I'd got him confused in this mess. I ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry ya little 'ead Trevs. I'll sort it out."

"You don't know how, you need someone who knows _how_." He pressed a piece of paper in my hand reading 'Poison Shed.'

"It's a place in the village," he elaborated, "somewhere they know about black magic. I'm not too sure where it is, my brother told me about it. Down this alley with neon signs-"

For the first time this morning I laughed. "Yeh I know the one. Fanks, mate." I pulled him into a tight hug, then turned around and left without looking back. I couldn't drag him any further into this mess.

"What about lessons?" He called at me a little frantically.

"Tell 'em I'm ill."

 _ **(Landfill – Daughter)**_

As I marched out of the front door of the building where I'd faced so many strange situations in a such a short time, I broke.

I'd fallen asleep next to him, he'd promised to scare away my fear and he did – so why did he want to kill me? Was the idea of everlasting power more important to him than me?

What was I saying. I'd known him a few days. How could I ever be important to him?

The rain was torrential and cold forming deep puddles prone to getting people totally submerged up to the ankle.

Was that tears or rain running down my face?

I don't know. I don't care.

For the entire journey I forced my brain to work on autopilot, to not think, to just be QUIET for once – but it didn't work. Everywhere I looked I saw dark, sad eyes.

When I peeked round the corner of the alley, there were no door guards to greet me, and the neon signs were dull. Reading one with the dim purple bar running though it: 'Poison Shed,' I felt my head start to spin a little. I gently edged around the corner and, just as I did so, heard loud footsteps stomping down the path I'd just walked: someone else was coming. Spying a strategically placed bin by Chandelier Castle, I quickly made a dive behind it, tucking my knees up to my chest. The steps got louder but, feeling brave, I looked around the edge of the murky silver shield.

Murdoc came into the street and strait away thrust the door to the Poison Shed open.

I felt my heart twitch. He looked rough; tired.

I slowly climbed out from behind the bin and trotted over to the door, pressing my ear up against it. I heard the sound of shuffling and mumbling faintly, but that disappeared into nothingness – he'd gone into another room. Before I could conjure the good sense to stop myself I yanked down the handle and shoved into the building.

The room was dark but after I pushed the door too, my eyes adjusted quickly. There were candles EVERYWHERE: any and all surfaces were covered in candles of varying colours and sizes grouped together. I lifted my foot ever so slowly and gently placed it on the dirty floor boards, retracting it rapidly when a loud creak filled the room. I hopped onto a large purple rug marked with candle wax to soften my foot falls.

The rug wasn't just marked with drippings, though.

There was an avid depiction of a women being spiked through the heart with a long crooked knife. I couldn't help but imagine myself in her place.

I suddenly realised why I was here and looked around for a route Murdoc might have taken. I didn't have to wonder for long – there was one door, and cockney mumblings were drifting through the key hole. Like a sprightly rat I tip toed/bounced over the carpet in anticipation and fear, bringing my eye to the gap.

There he was, sat on a battered old chair pushed up to a table with countless things of interest bedecking it – but, of course, those things were mainly candles. I felt my heart thump a little sadly when I saw him, staring at the table and playing with the hem of his shirt. He looked hopeless.

Opposite him was an old women leaning back and forth on a rocking chair, her small spindly legs not even grazing the ground. She was holding a deck of cards, flicking them effortlessly from hand to hand.

"You've been waiting a long time, my boy." She grinned and as she did so I caught a terrifying glance of her teeth. I thought Murdoc and the Chinese lady's were sharp but this creature was a proverbial vampire.

Murdoc wouldn't meet her eye.

"That's right."

"Are you ready?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "Wish me luck."

She cackled lightly. "No Gods of luck are present in this place." The candles began to flicker, getting brighter then dimmer – in the moments of brightness I could see cages of birds and small mammals chirping along to themselves. I won't lie, they seemed happy enough.

The women rolled her eyes back and began to hum. Murdoc had his firmly closed, and I could see he was muttering something. A spell? What was she doing to him? Despite everything I felt worried.

She began violently smacking cards down on the table.

Everything returned to normal in no time.

She flipped them all over as Murdoc watched expectantly. When she remained quiet for a while.

He lost his patience.

"Well? What do they say?" His tone was almost snappy, but held onto the note of respect.

"It is time. You shall be very powerful, young one. Very powerful... _after_ you complete the ritual."

The smile spread across Murdoc's lips dissipated a little.

"Yeh. I know."

"And you'll be very pleased to know, one has been chosen."

He looked shocked.

"What? Who? When?"

"Not long ago. The perfect candidate, I believe."

"How do I find them?"

She raised her eyebrows then swivelled in her ridiculously precarious chair. Looks like it was on a rotor.

I heard a melodious tweeting as she snagged some poor little creature from it's cage.

"This, devious one, is how you will find him." She uncurled her hands and released a little blue bird to perch on the table in front of Murdoc.

"Fuck..." He whispered. Obviously, he'd twigged it.

The bird suddenly flew strait over to the door I was hiding behind and started pecking on it insistently.

"Why," her jet black eyes turned to the keyhole and a sickeningly pointy smile radiated towards me, "there he is now."

Murdoc turned and his eyes went wide as he spied me through the tiny gap. "Stuart!"

I jumped and ran across the creaky floor and through the door running strait into a strange old man who started waving a stick at me.

What?

It was night time.

Hours had passed in that wicked room and now the bouncers were out.

I didn't know where to go until I saw the women at Knife's Edge quickly ushering me through the open door.

"Come, little Devil!"

I did come.

"Thank you!" I called back to her through the quickly closing door.

 _ **(Help I'm Alive – Metric)**_

A few steps into the crowd and I was crying so hard I couldn't see.

He was going to kill me. She'd said it herself, it was all he ever wanted.

Men and women instantly began to swarm around me.

"Ya a'right, love?"

"Come 'ere dahling, I'll look after ya."

"Come 'ave a drink, yeh?"

The crowd suddenly parted as an extremely threatening Hannibal stormed through them like bowling pins. He grabbed the man closest to me by the collar, yanking him towards his face.

"What was you sayin' to ma friend? You weren't threatening him were ya? Weren't trying nofin'?"

The man was so choked he could only shake his head.

"That's right, you weren't.

He threw him across the room then crouched down to me.

"They 'urt you?"

"No."

"Why you cryin' then?" He rubbed the tears running down my cheeks but they were replaced by fresh ones almost instantaneously.

"I dunno. I'm confused. I don' know what ta do."

He stood up strait and took my hand.

"I'll show you."

Hannibal picked me up and placed me on top of the bar.

"A perch for my little bird, eh?" He looked over at the bartender who gave a very slight look of disapproval, but then nodded.

He seemed to consider something. "You ran away yesterday."

"I was scared."

A few seconds later, Hannibal handed me a drink.

"Well don' do it again. Go on."

"I don't really like it."

"D'you not wanna feel better?"

Murdoc flashed into my mind causing another fit of crying. Whilst I was lent over sobbing Hannibal made soothing noises, bringing the drink up to my mouth. I took the glass and began to gulp like a thirsty fish.

"There we go! Good boy." He stroked my hair and began to nuzzle against my neck.

"Ya so pretty, you know that?"

I hated it, but I hated my thoughts more. I turned to face him and pushed forwards, every self-respecting nerve in my body screaming at me to stop. He kissed me roughly, biting at my lips, making salty blood start to leak out.

"Ow, stop it." I whimpered.

"Sorry, love." But he continued. That's when I noticed how pointy his teeth were. Maybe something of realisation may have sparked in my head when I considered his green skin and black hair, but it died as quickly as it arrived.

He began to grab at my thigh, gripping it tightly. I could feel the beginnings of bruises start to form.

Before I knew it, he was pouring another drink down my throat, and then came the pills.

Grabbing, pills, crying, drink, kissing, pills, hurting, drink.

The flashing lights made me confused and scared, and so did he. He made me hate myself and everything I did.

Just as he'd pinned me to the wall in some gritty corner and was beginning to pull my legs apart, I passed out.

Waking up, it had only been a few minutes, but Hannibal's friends were crowded around me.

"Better stop, mate. You'll kill 'im." One of them said to him

He nodded and picked me up in a fireman carry.

"I'll give ya a lift back to the school, Stuart." He leant close to my face and whispered "I'm glad you came back." He kissed me on the forehead.

 _ **(Stay – Shakespears's Sister)**_

After Hannibal dropped me off outside the school, I managed to stumble into the dorm room and find Murdoc absent.

It didn't stay that way for long.

He practically smashed the door off it's hinges.

"I have been looking everywhere for you." He said it slowly, his head lowered and eyes focused on me dangerously. His danger turned to full blown anger when he saw my state.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU?" He screamed.

I felt my own anger flush up.

"What's wrong with me? You want to burn me Murdoc!"

"I can't believe you followed me."

"You want to kill me! I fink you're the one in the wrong 'ere."

"You don't know anything about me." He snarled.

"Nah? I know you're a fucking Satanist that wants to be omnipotent or somefing – and to do that you're going to kill me." I was shaking, my tears coming back.

"I want to kill you, Stuart?" He started to stalk closer to me. "Do I? Well, maybe I do. Maybe I'm so bloody murderous I could kill you _right now_."

"Murdoc..." I sobbed.

He was too close. "Would you be able to stop me, mate?" He loomed over my hunched up body. "Where. Did. You. Go?"

"...Knife's Edge." I whispered. His jaw almost dropped off.

"What were you doing there? That's not where... do you know the sort of people that go there? I do, you can't go in there!" His voice was wavering, anger being swallowed by fear.

"I'm sorry." He grabbed my shoulders.

"You're sorry? What do you mean?"

"... I didn't get the pills from anyone at school. And I didn't get these one's from them either." Maybe it was my extremely high state or my horribly confounding feelings about Murdoc, but I was getting mad.

"You didn't get them from..."

"Someone at the club? Yeh, I did. I went there when you LEFT ME the other night."

He looked shattered.

"And you know what?" I continued, "I don't just take pills. I let the people there touch me and-"

I was knocked onto the ground as Murdoc smacked me hard across the face.

Everything was silent.

He stared down at me, then at his hand – he started to cry and reach for me.

"No, no, fuck! Stu, I'm sorry, come 'ere, come 'ere, I'm so so sorry!" But I was all ready tearing towards the bathroom, slamming the door and bolting it tight.

"Please, let me in! Ya in a bad state, what if you- just open the door!" He began to bang into it hard, but I held it in place with my body weight. I heard him crumple to the floor, crying.

And that's how I fell asleep: a piece of wood separating me from the Satanist trying to kill me.

The Satanist trying to kill me who I cared about more than anyone in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** **Thank you for all the amazing reviews and I'm glad everyone approves of my music taste ;)**

 **I'll put a little note at the top of a section if it switches from 2D to a narrator.**

 **I KNOW I've used the same Dido song as I did in a previous chapter but I think it fits so well! It is with a very guilty uncreative heart I do this - won't happen again, Sir.**

 _ **(To Build a Home – The Cinematic Orchestra)**_

I felt scared when I woke up, the white tiles and bright light blinding me slightly. Everything shone and reflected like sterilised mirrors.

I did the instinctive thing for a twelve year old to do in that situation.

"Mum!"

It took realisation a while to break through the foggy barrier as I searched for her, but once it did I sunk back to the floor and sobbed dryly.

" _I wish I'd never had you." Mum whispered._

" _W-what?"_

" _Stop it, Rachel." My Dad sounded stern for once._

" _I said I wish I'd never had you, you little daemon." She leant as close as possible, her voice hissing through the hospital ward from the bed she was strapped lightly to. I could see her wrists straining on those straps now._

 _Dad turned to me._

" _The call button's broke, mate. I'll get a nurse. Stay with Mum." I nodded. When he left she continued to freely glare at me._

" _... you not feeling good today, Mum? It'll get better we just need to sort out the right medic-"_

" _Will you SHUT UP? Good for nothing child."_

 _I tried to keep my voice from quivering. "Mum, stop being mean."_

" _You did this to me. You made me sick – having YOU is what caused this. But don't worry, I'll get you back. You have my genes Stuart and you'll end up like this too! YOU'LL BE STRAPPED TO A BED NIGHT AND DAY HAVING MEDS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT LIKE A SICK CHILD! WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?"_

 _She was yelling loudly now, but luckily the nurse came running in with Dad. He quickly ushered me out of the room as my Mother's screams turned into sad whimpers._

 _Dad handed me a fiver._

" _Go get some chocolate or something, yeh? Don't worry she's... she doesn't know what..."_

" _It's okay. You go back in there."_

" _Hm. Stay out of trouble."_

She was so sick now. She couldn't remember when she used to take me along to work. She _didn't_ work. Her lilac scrubs had long since stopped going through the wash. Slowly, everyone realised I wasn't worth anything much.

I gently touched the side of my face and felt the sting.

Even Murdoc.

Thinking about him, I crouched down and pressed my ear against the thin wooden door, feeling the cool wood sooth my hot skin. Sure enough, I could hear shaky, heavy breathing. Rising, I mustered up enough courage to pull the door open.

He was lying across the threshold like a draft blocker, his skin a few inches away from touching the door I'd just shifted.

He was gripping his sleeve, holding it close to his face. When I looked at that face, for the first time I saw Murdoc tear-stained. Not that this mattered.

But he remained asleep. I could escape.

Tip toeing to the door, I was reminded of The Poison Shed and it's disgusting candles. I realised then, he'd been entrapping me in this witches den of a dorm room all along. Just as I reached the door, someone knocked. Murdoc's eyes snapped open and he saw me instantly.

"Stu-" I yanked the door open before he could go on. It was a women dressed in a pinafore.

"Hello Stuart."

"Um... 'ello?" Who was she? Murdoc read my mind and answered the question.

"That's Anna, the school nurse."

She leaned closer into the room. "Hello Murdoc. What are you doing on the floor?"

He quickly blushed and hopped up. "I fell."

"Hm," she seemed unconvinced, "how's have _things_ been going?"

He coughed uncomfortably and lowered his voice an octave. "Yeh... better."

She gave a genuine smile. She was about 30 with soft mousy brown hair and pretty grey eyes. I couldn't stop staring at her, in her nurse's uniform.

"Stuart? Are you all right sweetie?"

"Yeh, yeh sorry. You just... remind me of someone." Somehow, she looked as though she knew.

"That's okay. Would you mind stepping outside a moment so we can have a chat?"

Murdoc rushed over to us.

"Is he okay?" He was stood behind me; I was way too aware of him.

"Don't worry, he's fine. We just need a little talk." She showed me out of the door and closed it gently behind us.

"Now, Stu, you haven't been showing up to classes – you've been ill?"

I was starting to worry – they'd found me out.

"Yeh."

"That's very normal in a lot of our students who come from further away. Home sickness?"

I gave a nervous laugh. "Yeh, I think so."

"Well sweetie you don't look good at all. Have you been crying much?" I nodded in response, embarrassed at being so see through. Her eyebrows knitted together in sympathy.

"It'll get easier. Go and have a lie down now, okay?"

"Yeh, fanks, um, Anna."

"That's all right." Just as I was turning away she called back to me:

"I'm sure Murdoc will take care of you just fine."

I didn't answer, just watched her walk away. Murdoc certainly wanted to take care of me.

I entered the room, met by an anxious Murdoc.

"What did she say?" He was playing with his hands, wringing them together like wet dish cloths.

"Nofing much." I wouldn't look at him, just took off my shirt and went to fetch a clean one from the cupboard.

"What's that?"

I turned around to face him – he'd seen my palms.

"Um... what's what?"

"Those!" He pointed at my back.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He marched over and ran his hands over the skin. His fingertips hurt as they bumped over specific lines stretching across my spine. "These scratches. They're all over you..." He continued to run his fingers over me, so I snappishly turned around.

"I don't know." I sounded brisk. Good.

"They look like finger nail marks..." He was searching my face for any sign of an answer when he stopped roaming and focused on my cheek.

"Last night-"

"Don't matter. Don't worry." I turned away from him again and pulled on an over sized football shirt that used to be my cousin's. I then proceeded to yank on a grey hoodie and march off to the door.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Out." I slammed it behind me.

Only once I was safely out did I break into a run. As I ran, I pictured my mother, twisting against her restraints to get to me.

" _I hate you!"_ She'd scream and scream until the nurses had to take me away crying.

My Dad: _"Looks like we're here mate."_ His face appeared as though he was putting down an old dog. Sad, but it had to be done.

Murdoc's angry eyes bore into my mind.

Even those who I cared about, like Trev, were better off safe and away from my mess.

So I ran to the only person in the world I could.

 _ **(Dido – Here With Me)**_

 _ **NARRATOR**_

Murdoc waited in the room for a moment, staring at where Stu had been standing just a short while ago. Where was he going? Thoughts of their argument last night plagued him and he grasped at his hair, yanking it hard.

"Shut the fuck up!" He yelled at his past self.

" _I don't just take the pills."_

What was the kid even getting messed up in? He knew the sorts of people who could hang out in that Satan forsaken ally – people like his brother.

He could be in real trouble.

He felt anxious, agitated, claustrophobic and for the first time since he'd moved in, Murdoc slowly began to part the heavy black curtains draped over the windows. He was letting in the light. Somehow the cold, grey light felt good on his skin like it never had. It wasn't warm or especially bright, but it was pure. It reminded him of someone.

And low and behold, as he looked down to the dank, wet grass below, he saw that certain blue someone storming out of the school towards the village.

Without thinking, Murdoc grabbed his jacket from the bed and ran out of the room to follow like an obsessive spaniel.

Staying just far enough behind Stuart to be undetected, but close enough to see his every move, Murdoc stalked his younger friend on the sound reasoning that 'it was for his own good.'

He was walking fast, and kept wiping his eyes every few minutes. It hurt him to think of those big grey eyes bloodshot and damaged from rubbing.

Sure enough, when they reached the village, the child made strait for the Neon Ally. Perfect.

Murdoc's heart was starting to have a fit as he sneaked down the winding, dirty pathways, thinking of the sickening fluorescent sign he least hoped his friend would turn for. The place he REALLY didn't want to be seen by anyone. But, fate was rarely kind to Murdoc, as he found out for the hundredth time as Stu nervously shuffled towards the ungaurded Knife's Edge.

He timidly knocked on the door and, when there was no answer, pushed it open and disappeared inside. When the door shut Murdoc allowed himself to speak.

"Fuck..."

He bolted for it, his imagination making him more and more furious thinking about the sorts of creepy, disgusting men the vulnerable kid was letting into his life. He reached the door and took a deep breath, then slowly creaked it open, slipped through the gap in between heartbeats and closed it again nimbly.

He got there just in time to see Stuart being dragged by the hand to somewhere upstairs.

Murdoc ran after him, taking the steps two at a time, not caring what kind of noise he made. He rounded the corner he saw his friend get pulled behind and-

Let's just say, ouch.

 _ **(Young and Beautiful Orchestral Version – Lana Del Rey)**_

Murdoc felt sick as he came into consciousness. A deep ominous feeling washed over him as he groaned and attempted to rise. Placing his palms on the ground to raise up, he heard a clinking noise. Looking down, he found a metal handcuff locked to his wrist with a rusty chain attached to it – he followed the chain with his eyes: it was cemented to a brick wall.

He looked around, panicked and confused, seeing nothing but the black, stormy night sky above him. Just a moment ago, it had been morning.

Until, in the darkness, he made out something colourful and bright and hopeful – soft spiky blue hair.

The memories came rushing back in an instant and, in a futile attempt, Murdoc tried to crawl to Stuart. But the chain pulled on him tightly, no matter how much he thrashed in the style of a mad dog. He heard a little moan and became still when light came into the area.

As the light drifted in, it lit up the young boy: limp and strapped to a large wooden inverted cross with a frightening amount of kindling at the base.

"Stuart!" Murdoc called to the him. "Wake up!"

As the light came closer, he became quiet. Hannibal approached the now fully lit clearing in the woods with a large flaming torch.

What the fuck was his brother doing here?

He stomped confidently and slowly towards them, the whole while staring hungrily at Stuart, until he turned to Murdoc.

"Little brother. Nice teh see ya."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you even doing, Han?" he growled in response.

"Didn't you hear? The chosen one is here! You think you're the only one who visits Poison Shed?" He crouched down to the fifteen year old's hunched over form and started to talk quieter.

"You think you're the only one who knows about the ritual? I'd never let YOU take away what is mine by birth right!" He kicked him hard in the knee causing him to crumble to the ground with a scream.

"I'm the older brother! You don't deserve all that power – what would Dad say? You're fucking useless!" He kicked the bent over boy hard in the ribs next, a horrific crunching noise resonating through the trees.

"I get first picks, Muds, and I get him." To make the point clearer, he strode over to Stuart and cupped his face with his free hand.

"'ey," he whispered softly, "come on, blue bird. Wakey wakey." He leant his face close to his pale neck and gently rubbed against it as he woke up.

Murdoc began to grunt for Hannibal to get away from him when his words caught in his throat.

"Han? What am I doin' here?"

"Sh, sh." He stroked Stuart's hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. "You just stay there for me, 'kay?"

"How do you know him?!" Murdoc managed to croak from the floor.

At the same time as Stuart gave a surprised "Murdoc?" Hannibal began to elaborate.

"He's my mate, see. We've been 'aving... 'fun' together, ain't we, love?"

Murdoc was practically boiling alive in his skin.

"YOU? YOU'VE BEEN GIVING HIM THE PILLS AND-?" His eyes widened in horror at his brother's cocky raised eyebrows. "No. I'm going to kill you."

Stuart's quiet voice floated from the structure, making the other two turn their heads.

"Murdoc, how do you know him? A-and why are you chained up? Why am _I_ chained up?" Murdoc was about to answer when Hannibal butted in.

"He's ma little brother. And he's been meddling in ma business."

The penny dropped and Stu couldn't form words in the aftermath of how stupid he'd been.

"Stuart," Murdoc pleaded, "I'm not mad at you, please don't trust him, pl-"

Hannibal kicked him hard in the face causing him to smash backwards in a bloody heap.

"MURDOC! Hannibal, stop it!"

Hannibal turned to face the frightened boy with dark, hellish eyes.

"Fine. You're turn, little one." He approached and whispered. "You know what I'm gonna do. You've dreamt about it."

As he realised full force what was about to happen, he began to whimper and struggle. "Stop, Han, stop!" But he just smiled cruelly.

"Something to remember me by." He hissed and pressed his mouth hard against Stuart's, his sharp teeth gnashing at his lips like a piranha. He tried to get free, yanking at his ropes and feeling his mother's pain at being restrained.

"Stop movin'!" But he just wriggled more, back arching as he tried to escape the pointy clutches.

"Fucking STOP!" Hannibal yelled at him and back handed hard across his face.

Luckily, that smack happened at the exact same time as Murdoc gave one final yank on his chains, causing one of the rusty links to shatter. He went unheard. He charged at Hannibal, knocking the flame out of his hand with his own. They fell to the floor and Murdoc instantly climbed, like a triumphant, bloody mountaineer, on top of his perverted brother, lifted him by the collar, and cracked his head against a particularly pointy rock. He slumped the ground, unconscious.

"Murdoc!" Stuart squeaked. The fire knocked away by Murdoc had landed on the pile of twigs at the base of the cross, creating a hideous bonfire.

"Fuck! Don't worry, I'll untie you." He rushed over and attempted to loosen the knot, but his fingers slipped uselessly over it.

"Shit it's covered in oil or something." His eyes roamed to the young boy who's skin, he noticed for the first time, was sheening with a thick substance. There was an empty petrol can a few feet away.

"Shit!" Murdoc panicked, when he suddenly remembered his brother's trust flick knife.

"Murdoc, just don't touch me, you'll get burnt, go!" Stu was yelling croakily, inching his feet as far up the pole as he could.

He rifled through the pocket and produced the item just as a deafening scream shattered the air and Stuart caught light.

"NO!" Murdoc ran so fast to those fucking evil knots that he may as well of teleported, quickly slashing them and heaving the burning boy out of the flames, fire singing his ashy skin.

They both fell to the ground and rolled away, the flames on him going out.

"Stuart! Are you okay? Come on, talk!"

He opened his eyes, but they were blood red.

"Wha-" Murdoc began but he felt his own vision suddenly get redder and redder. He could see just long enough to witness Stuart's eyes, nails, hair line and mouth begin to produce thick, salty blood. It stained his white skin and turned parts of his hair a dirty purple. He began to shake and Murdoc passed out.

 _ **(Once Upon a Dream – Lana Del Rey)**_

"You've done it, Murdoc."

"Wha-what?" He didn't feel fuzzy, he hadn't passed out or woken up – he was just here. A man stood before him, tall with slicked back blonde hair and marble white skin. He looked ageless, with a black suit and waistcoat, leaning on a cane.

"I said, son, you've done it. You showed true commitment and I'm ready to make my pact."

Fuck. The Devil.

He laughed as Murdoc's thoughts became audible in the vast chamber they stood in, echoing around like mimicking children hid in the darkness.

"The one and only." He flashed an impeccable smile towards the teenager. He had a thick New Orleans drawl.

"Wait – why do you wanna make a pact with … _me_ , sir?" Better not drop the formalities now.

" _You_ , Mr Niccals? I've had my eye on _you_ for quite some time. Born in a mental asylum to an insane mother, taken home to cruel, abusive brother and father – I'm surprised it took you this long to make it to me. And when you set the little blue kid on fire-"

"Wait, no. That wasn't me. That was my brother, Hannibal. I'd NEVER set Stuart on fire."

The Devil looked confused. He brought out a hefty book from thin air and started to flick through the pages. He settled on one.

"No, my notes say here that YOU went to the old women for advice on the spells, he was YOUR room-mate and the flame left YOUR hands to set a big inverted cross on fire! Surely I'm not mistaken?"

"Well, technically, but-"

"Boy, my middle name is technicality. Are we here to do business or not?" The book morphed into a contract. He held out a quill.

"On the dotted line, if you don't mind."

"What does this contract do."

"Well, I give you power, the power to have everything you've ever desired, in exchange for your soul … but you don't really care about that anyway do you?" He spoke the last bit a tad too quickly, but he was right. Murdoc didn't. This was what he wanted, what he always wanted when he was beat up by his brother and father, being tormented every day of his life. Power. When he shakily took the quill, the neutral light in the room shifted to dark purple. He scribbled a hasty signature, Satan snatching it off him as soon as the quill lost contact with the paper.

"Fun doing this and all, but I have to run. Have a nice life, son."

"Wait! What about Stuart?"

"Stu- oh the little blue thing! Yes he's alive, you saved him, very heroic."

"And he'll be okay."

"Yes... I mean he'll be your eternal spiritual slave until the day he dies but that's not too much of an issue."

"WHAT?"

"Should've read the fine print."

And he woke.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: You may have noticed I haven't been updating in my usual regular style – because of A levels -.- so sorry for the wait in what is … dun dun DUN! The final chapter concluding everything.**

 **As usual thanks for all the great reviews, Nerd Girl 1 for continued support, and also Shionbroslover and Prismahays recently :D You're all wonderful people who should be given cake!**

 **Unless specified, this is all in 2D's POV.**

 **See the end for details and I'm sorry it's so short.**

 _ **(Near Light – Olafur Arnalds)**_

The world had a hazy burn to it, like I was floating through the corridors in bloody water – maybe I was.

The sterile white of the place lodged in my memory had been turned a stained orange colour in the flood, making it almost unrecognisable.

Almost.

This was the hospital Mum used to work at.

I drifted like an aimless jellyfish through the wards, carried by the current of my mind, searching for her. She was all I could remember right now.

I turned a corner, and slowed to a halt. There was an eerie darkness ahead, a chasm made from black water. I could just make out, in the vast empty, three figures.

When the first stepped forward into my view, I was overcome with joy.

"Mum! I've been looking everywhere for you!" But the smile on my face changed to one of sadness that matched her own when she looked to the watery floor.

"Stuart, I... I loved you once. But I'm not me any more... you're not my son any more. I don't want you. I don't love you. I'm sorry."

"Mum, I don't get it." I was desperate – she was all I had.

"I'm so sorry."

Another figure stepped forward: I don't remember what he was wearing, just that it was black and all seemed to merge together. He had harsh blonde hair and eyes a white that looked so hot, I would be burnt from visual contact. Mum handed a long, thin key, plain in detail, over to his bony outstretched hand. Before I could say anything else she stepped away into the darkness and disappeared from me.

"Sorry, son. It's probably for the best." The man smoothly spoke at me, but he didn't look sorry.

"Why did she go?" My voice came out soft, I was so confused. Did she have to go back to work?

"How clear did the women have to be, now? She has, how would you say... severed the ties of your relationship." He took a step forward. "She doesn't love you. But I've found someone to keep your soul in her place."

He motioned with his hand to the third figure who moved into the light with hesitation and a deep depression. A boy. His hair shone in the water, rose up slightly and glinted dark blues and purples, like the swirls of paint washed off a brush. His bister eyes wouldn't meet mine, as though he felt shamed. But, like the other man, I didn't know him.

"Murdoc. Nice doing business with you." He addressed the boy and handed him the key. It took a moment for him to accept it. As he did, he looked up at me and I was pushed away, a great current driving me back where I came through countless corridors, propelling me through the front doors into the blackness.

 _ **(Skinny Love – Bon Iver)**_

 _ **NARRATOR**_

Ever since Murdoc had gotten back to the school, he'd watched over Stuart. He'd watched the shallow breathes his chest struggled to take in, the curling fists trying to fight away the pain and the soft, slightly singed blue spikes that lay on the pillow framing him like a halo.

When he came to after his meeting with Satan he'd been met by a picture of his little friend shaking and covered in blood – it seemed to be pouring from his scalp, nails, ears; anywhere blood COULD pour from... but especially the eyes. His eyes were almost black with it. Touching his face, he found the same dark red staining his own fingers. He panicked and shook Stu for at least five minutes before his mind settled enough to find the good sense to carry him. The boy was so light.

He couldn't remember the journey back, just the weak beating of his friend's heart against his own thumping chest as though it was willing his to go faster, to be strong for just a little while longer.

When Anna the nurse saw the gory children stood outside her dorm door, she dropped the torch she was holding and went white.

" _What on Earth happened to you boys?!"_

" _Anna..."_

After a deep description of some fantasy street drug that caused severe momentary bleeding, they were whisked back to their room, checked, scrubbed and given a stern talk about taking unknown or harmful substances – Stu was lucky he was unconscious. After checking him over she decided he was just sleeping and would wake up with a killer headache in the morning, but little else.

Even with this news, Murdoc couldn't leave him.

" _He'll be your eternal spiritual slave until the day he dies."_

He swallows deeply, eyes fixed on Stuart.

It was then, in that exact moment he realised something. In his own skinny, blue, pale way, the twelve year old was incredibly, insanely beautiful.

He didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve him.

Wet tears trickled down the teenagers eyes and he began to sob, bending his head into his arms. Sobbing became crying and crying became fervent gasping.

He had to leave.

 _ **(With or Without You – U2)**_

 _ **2D'S POV**_

I woke up to the noise of clattering in the room. There was a lingering emotion within me, one I was slowly forgetting as the last traces of my dream became lost from memory.

Instinctively I held my hands above my head to inspect them. They were clean! No scars, no creepy symbols!

"Murdoc!" I sat up and faced the teenager standing in the doorway, holding two full bags. Confusion batted away my happiness as I saw there were no candles clogging the surfaces in the room, no dark blue sheets on Murdoc's bed and no thick black curtains draping over the windows.

"Are... Are you going somewhere?"

He looked uncomfortable and his eyes were red and shiny.

"I'm going home. To Stoke."

My heart stopped.

"Wh- for how long?"

"I'm not coming back."

I began to shake my head.

"What? No. Why?" My voice was wobbling, dread taking over my vocal chords.

He wouldn't meet my gaze... I got deja vu.

"I'm sorry, mate. About Hannibal, the creepy fire shit. Everything."

The memory of last night's occurrences settled back into my brain, but they seemed irrelevant now. I got up and ran over to him.

"I don't care! All of that don't mean you have to leave!"

"Yes. It does."

He was so cold.

"But you can't leave me." I whispered.

"We barely know each other." He turned to leave but I grabbed the hand reaching for the door handle.

"But we do, don't we? I don't know how after such a short time but we do. You're my friend. You can't jus' leave the moment I wake up."

"Why am I, then?"

"Because you're afraid." I stood up strait and faced him. His eyes turned to me.

"You 'ave no idea how afraid I am." He sharply grabbed me by the wrists.

"What are you doin'?"

"Do you see?" He gripped harder. "I CAN 'urt you. I will 'urt you. I'm fucking detrimental to you."

"No ya not." I winced as he dug his nails in.

"Then why you screwing ya face up?" He looked manic, cruel – like his brother.

"Please, stop it." I spoke like a little mouse.

"Thought I wasn't 'urting you?" He growled. He started to push me back towards the wall. "I remind you of 'him, don' I? Han. HE 'urt you, right? You trusted 'im."

"You wouldn't though. You're my friend."

I bumped into the solid surface and started to feel scared. He leaned in close and snarled at me through gritted teeth.

"Get it out of your 'ead that I'm ya friend. I don't want you."

 _I don't want you._

"You can' say that to me!" I cried at him. "Not after all of this! You said you'd kill Han for what he did to me, you must care."

"Ya need to stop telling me what I must do."

"YOU need to stop being a twat! You're my friend! I love you-"

He threw me to the floor and began to kick me, hit me, knee me, until I couldn't defend myself with my bruised hands any more. I couldn't speak, the shock of the pain thumping through my head like a disturbing migraine.

"NEVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN! I DON' FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

 _I don't love you._

He gave me one last heavy kick to the ribs before storming for the exit.

"Please don't go." I whispered through a mouthful of blood.

The door slammed.

 _ **NARRATOR**_

From the other side of the closed door, Murdoc burst into tears. But it had to be done – someone couldn't be your slave if you never saw them.

And he would never make Stuart his slave. He could never see him again...

…

Even id he did love him.

 _ **More Author's Notes: Well there we go! How will it continue? I don't now yet. I'd like to do a carry on story later on but would have to see if enough people would want that to happen! Thank you for your support throughout, I hope you liked :)**_


End file.
